Back came the guilt. And the sudden realisation that my blood type, O Rhesus negative, was one of the most valuable because it could be given to anyone, whatever their blood group. Bet I’m too old now, I thought, optimistically – but no, they still wanted me.
Perhaps all the publicity around vaccinations over the past two years has desensitised my squeamishness, or maybe I just want to show that I’m grateful to my adopted country for letting me live here. Whatever the reason, I took the plunge and made an appointment.And what a rewarding experience it was, once I’d steeled myself to do it. Lounging in the recliner in front of a TV screen, a lovely nurse called Cass looking after me, bringing me a bottle of water, and expertly inserting the needle.
As I tucked into my post-donation tasty goodies I basked in the satisfaction of not only having faced down my demons but also of possibly keeping someone else alive. It’s good to know that now I’m officially part of the Lifeblood of Australia. And what’s more, I’m happy to do it all again – next year.
But who is gonna want Pfizer tainted blood? Certainly not the elites who have done everything to avoid getting vaccinated, while telling everyone else to.
I know... now that I no longer possibly have mad cow disease, I feel as if I should donate too. After I recover from this hip replacement, my partner and I are going to go.